Little Princess
by Lovely.K
Summary: Beth couldn't be more in love with Thomas. Thomas couldn't be using her anymore than he already was. But she's sick of being his puppet, his ragdoll. She is sick of being his Little Princess.


I wasn't perfect. In fact, I was far from it. Sure, I could take a pirouette and make it perfect. Over time I had a perfected the art of doing 32 continuous fouettés. And yes, I had taken the part of the Swan Queen and played it to perfection, over and over again. I was perfect as a ballerina and desperately imperfect as a human.

I was his "little princess." You know he would call me that while we made love. Maybe that's to kind of a term for what we did… He had called me that while we fucked. But I'd had myself convinced from the moment I forced my lips harshly onto his, that it was love. I remember the first time. He had grabbed my hips and shoved me back into his desk, which would later develop into angry bruises. I convinced myself as he nipped at my neck, whispering into my ear, that this was for us. Not just him using me, teaching me the "raw sexual passion of the black swan" but for the development of our relationship. I was wrong. He used me; acting like it was a privilege, like he deserved it for giving me the role. Using me like giving me the role was a big fucking sacrifice on his part. I fucking made that show.

There was a night where I had worn myself out, to the point of exhaustion. Thomas had told me to go home and rest, we would be on the stage tomorrow. But I didn't listen. I stayed behind, forced myself to do the dance over and over again, until I was so past my body's comfort level that I collapsed. I foolishly thought that my lover would be there to hold me, kiss my bleeding feet better and whisper soothing words in my ear. I threw on my sweater and headed out into the cool night. When I arrived at his apartment I could hear cool soothing music through the door. Just knowing Thomas was on the other side made me relax. I knocked, one… two… three times. On the fourth knock I decided that maybe he couldn't hear me over the music. But then he answered.

"Beth? What are you doing here? It's late and we're on the stage tomorrow!" He wasn't harsh, just confused.

"I know, it's just I kept going and I… I worked myself so hard… I just wanted to see you." I was rambling.

"Come in, come in." He said, rushing me.

He closed the door behind him and turned to face me. As soon as he turned, I collapsed into him. I buried my face into his chest and put my arms around him, squeezing tightly. I was trying to suck every last bit of comfort that I could out of him. I was content to just stay like this, just taking in his scent but he wasn't. He was never content to just let me be as I was. He took his hand, placing it under my chin and tilting my head upwards gently. He lay his lips onto mine softly. I would have liked to tear my lips from his, take his hand, and lead him to the couch and just have him hold me. He however, after seeing I hadn't pulled away became animalistic. Trying to slide his tongue into my mouth, tearing my coat away from my thin cold frame and grazing my bottom lip with his teeth. I became overwhelmed by emotion and pushed him away, as hard as I could.

"What are you doing!" he demanded.

"Me? What are you doing?" I yelled.

"What I always do! Why did you come here, if not for this?" I'd never been more insulted or more at a loss for words. He was right. What had I come for? I'd come for something, he'd never proven to exist. Love.

"I came.. I came, for comfort! I had a long day and I thought maybe my boyfriend would be here to make it better."

"You're what?" Then I realized what I'd said.

"My boyfriend." I said it firmly.

"Beth. I don't know what you think this is but I 'am your director!"

"What? No. No you can't say that. The way that you touch me its-"

"The touch of a lover. Nothing more Beth! So our relationship developed into something physical, that doesn't change what we are! Director and dancer."

"But I'm your little princess." I said weakly.

"And you always will be," He said reaching out to touch my cheek, "But I don't know how you got this so confused."

"I'm confused because I love yo-"

"Don't. Don't say it Beth. Go home, get your rest. Then come to the studio tomorrow and be raw, sensual and passionate. This whole thing, is going to make you feel such useful emotions for the show."

"The show? This isn't about the fucking show! This is about feelings! This is about us!" He just stared at me coldly.

"That's all this ever was, wasn't it? It was always about the show, it was never about me."

"Beth, your being ridiculous. Go home. Everything will be clearer in the morning."

"Fuck you."

And then I was gone. I walked out, leaving him alone like he wanted. Staying lonely, like I despised. Then the next day on that stage, I was beautiful. Dancing better than I ever had. Taking all the love and all the hatred I had for that vile man and forming it into something beautiful. Then he wanted me again. He took me backstage that night, after everyone had gone and showed me just how beautiful he'd thought I'd been and I let him. I let him do it almost every night for years. I was his puppet, his rag doll. His little princess.


End file.
